


The Colors of the (Space) Wind

by Beautiful_Doom



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Art, Coloring Books, crackish? Maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Doom/pseuds/Beautiful_Doom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timothy suggests a way to help relieve stress to Jack. Jack disagrees with Tim's suggestion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Colors of the (Space) Wind

A stressed Handsome Jack was the worst kind of Handsome Jack.

It was like having a giant Skag stalk through the halls of Helios, and there are very specific things you must do to avoid injury or death. First was don't make eye contact. In the animal kingdom, making eye contact is a way of presenting yourself as challenging the other person. It was like saying 'Come at me, bro!' or 'Fite me!' And Jack never backed down from any kind of challenge. The lucky people who made eye contact were treated to terrifying Jack who wouldn't back off until they'd wet themselves. The unlucky ones were either shot or airlocked. As such, people usually kept their heads ducked down. 

Second was to never say anything stupid, or disagree with Jack unless you had a REALLY good point to make. Like god level point. A 'wise visit from the ghostly apparition of your ancestors' point. If you had a good enough point, Jack would commend you... provided he wasn't already thinking your point. If he was, you were screwed, and you were airlocked. Of course saying stupid stuff was instant death or instant injury depending on the level of stupidity. Sadly, Jack had his own view of stupid sometimes, so dodging that sometimes literal bullet could be a little hard. 

Third was to do every single thing he told you to do. Even if he told you to kill yourself. True, that kind of defeats the purpose, but if you killed yourself when he told you to you could at least save yourself from a more painful death at his hands. 

Doing these things prevented injury or death (most of the time), but you still could fall prey to Jack's snapping snarling, snarking, and just general all around bad mood. And nobody knew about Jack's bad moods quit like Timothy Lawrence. 

When you're someone's body double, you have to act like them. That meant you had to be around them through every type of situation, whether good, bad, scary, or awkward. Timothy had been with Jack through all the thicks and thins, and he'd been more than privy to the lethal stressed Jack. Which was probably why he was always looking for ways to help Jack calm down. He'd given Jack aromatherapy candles that Jack had ended up airlocking because the smell gave him a headache. He'd given Jack special bubble bath soaps and bath bombs that went unused because Jack rarely had time for a relaxing bath. He'd try giving Jack's toys to play with like rubix cubes or puzzles, but they had suffered the same fate as the bombs and soaps. Tim knew it had nothing to do with time. If Jack really wanted to do something he would do it, and damn anyone who tried to get him back on track. No, Tim knew he hadn't found the right tool, but he was determined to find it. 

~O~ 

Once again, Handsome Jack was having a stressful day. 

People were being idiots, sales weren't doing what he wanted, there had been an accident in R&D that had set three projects back several months, and Jack was doing his best not to just jump ship and then bomb it. He was at his desk looking over some things that had piled up, when Timothy decided to make his appearance. 

"Hey boss," he said. "How's it going today- WHOA!" He just barely managed to dodge Jack shooting at him. He looked up at Jack from the floor and gave a shocked expression. "What the heck?! You almost shot me!" 

"You really shouldn't ask a man how his day's going when he's neck deep in shit," said Jack. He holstered his pistol. "It's bad luck, Tim Tams."

Timothy sighed and stood up. "Well how was I to know? I just got back and I wanted to give you a gift." 

"For me?" Jack gave a mocking swoon. "Oh Tim Tams, ya shouldn't have. However am I to contain this joy that you have bestowed upon me?" 

"I can smell the sarcasm from here," said Timothy. He opened his bag and pulled out a book. He set it before Jack and waited for his reaction. 

"Uh... Timothy? The hell is this?" Jack stared at the book that was called 'Art Therapy for Adults.' Thumbing through it, he saw it was a complex coloring book. "What, am I five?" 

"It's to help you relax," said Timothy. "Art therapy is really good for stress. I was thinking you might like to give it a... try..." 

Jack had literally tossed the book aside. It sailed in an arc and tumbled down the stairs. 

"Relax! Oho, that's a good one! Timothy, relaxation doesn't come from a coloring book," said Jack. "It involves three hot women, a jar of peanut butter, a really sturdy chair, some handcuffs, and-" 

"You made your point!" Timothy protested. "Well fine, it was just an idea." 

"And that's why I'm the CEO and you're the double," Jack said smugly, getting back to his reports. Timothy grunted in frustration. 

"Ugh! I'm heading to my apartment." As if he remembered something, he pulled a large box of colored pencils from his bag. "You can throw these too, I guess." 

"Ooh, darts!" Jack opened the box with glee. "And I can also use them to draw a bullseye. Thanks Tim Tams for your stupid book and cool multicolored darts." Timothy threw his hands in the air as he left.

~O~ 

Handsome Jack was beginning to fidget. 

He had caught some downtime before a meeting and was looking for something to do. Everyone outside his office was too much of an idiot for him to harass at this point, but he didn't have much in his office to entertain himself. He just needed something to occupy his hands. Something to take his mind off his work and all the crap that had happened recently. His eyes fell on the box of colored pencils on his desk... then his eyes slowly made their way over to the discarded book on the floor. 

No way. 

He was handsome Jack. He wasn't some drooling five year old that he would color in a coloring book. Still... it was the only thing he had in his office, and he was too lazy to leave and find something else to entertain him. Sighing heavily, and blaming desperate measures, he got up and retrieved the book. He looked through it as he brought it back to his desk. Some of the pictures actually weren't that bad. Some depicted animal life or flowers, or just random geometric designs. He settled on a complex owl design as he sat down and opened the pencils. He selected a blood red pencil and drug it down the side of the owl. Well, no going back now. He quickly began to fill in the picture, making sure to stay within the lines. 

When it was time for his next meeting, the room was already full of nervous looking workers. Word of Jack's mood had spread, and they were all worried about inciting his wrath. Jack finally walked in, fashionably late, and sat at the head of the table. No one said a word or made eye contact, but they were all surprised to see him pull out his coloring book and pencils. He began working on a picture that was patterned with roses and gestured for the meeting to begin. 

It actually wasn't that bad. Jack barely looked up from his book, and people weren't getting airlocked. He finished his rose picture and started on one that had several birds on it. The meeting droned on in this fashion: they'd talk, Jack would listen while he colored, and nothing was thrown, broken, or murdered. Of course that all came to a stop when Jack pressed a bit too hard and snapped the tip of one of his pencils. 

"Son of a taint," he growled, glaring at the offending pencil. One of the ladies next to him frantically dug a pencil sharpener from her bag and shakily offered it to Jack. Jack took it and carefully sharpened his pencil while the others waited with bated breath. His task done... Jack went back to coloring. 

A silent sigh of relief was shared by all. 

No one dared laugh at Jack's little activity. It wasn't as much they were afraid (though they were) as much as it was that they all had some seemingly childish hobby. One of the executives liked to embroider and send his creations to his grandmother. Another liked to make jewelry, and another still liked to collect dolls. If anything people were just glad that Jack had managed to find something to help keep him calm. At the same time they were worried about the day he would run out of pencils or coloring pages. 

Things seemed to be ok... until the last meeting. Jack had been coloring a complicated geometric design when the man next to him had bumped him causing his bright purple pencil to veer outside the lines and off the edge of the page. The man had paled and tried to apologize, but Jack pulled his pistol out and shot him before angrily ripping the page out. He glared at everyone while he crumpled it and tossed it aside then started on the next page. The tension in the room rose dramatically, but the meeting went on. 

~O~ 

It was hours later that Timothy received a call from Jack. 

He headed to Jack's office, wondering what could be the problem. He hadn't heard much about his day, preferring to stay in his apartment and catch up on some sleep, but he hoped something hadn't happened to push Jack off the deep end... again. 

Entering Jack's office, he spotted the CEO at his desk. Jack was fidgeting with a colored pencil that definitely looked a lot shorter than he remembered. 

"Hey Tim Tams!" Jack stood up. "Listen, I need a favor..." 

"Am I hearing this right?" Timothy said in mock shock. "A favor? From me?" He stood next to the desk and blinked when he saw the coloring book. Jack had wandered off to glance out the window, so he picked up and nearly dropped it when he opened it. He was expecting scribbles or half decent coloring, but this... The pictures were all neatly colored and expertly shaded with an artist's eye. It looked like paintings that deserved to hang on the walls of a gallery. 

"Think you can get me more?" Jack asked. Timothy tore his eyes away from the book and looked over at Jack. "What? Surprised? Didn't think I could color a freaking picture?" 

"No!" Timothy protested. "Just... these are beautiful. They look like an expert did them." 

"Oh, Timothy..." Jack sighed and slung his arm over Timothy's shoulders. "When will you learn that I'm ALWAYS an expert? Doesn't matter what. Now, can you get me more of those books? Gonna need more pencils too. No crayons. Those things are shit." 

"Uh.... s-sure," said Timothy. He set the book down. "Yeah, I can get you more. I'll put in a bulk order as soon as I can. I just... still can't believe how well you colored them all." 

"Timmy, I'm Handsome Jack," Jack thumped him on the back. "I can do anything. Now go order me more books."

**Author's Note:**

> So this was just an idea I got because I have tons of those art therapy coloring books myself. They sometimes help relieve stress, but they can also bring in stress all on their own.


End file.
